


Steal a Little

by Icouldrun



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: AU ending, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Memory Loss, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Power Dynamics, Punishment, Smut, Spanking, elements of non consensual spanking, implied mental manipulation, possible trigger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-09-20 17:37:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17027100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icouldrun/pseuds/Icouldrun
Summary: Coco wants her midnight wine, Mallory just wants to be useful, and Michael gets bored. It's a bad combination.





	1. Chapter 1

Wine was slowly becoming another endangered commodity in the Outpost. Not that Mallory minded so much. She was not permitted any as a grey, and besides, it made the others a little bossier than they otherwise would be. For all the shock of the end of the world began to fade, the status of grey and purple seemed to grow in divide, with Coco no longer being the only cruel one. The others seemed more brass with her lately, more likely to snap if things were not perfect.

It didn’t help that Mr. Langdon was getting to each of them. He sure got to Mallory, but when she tried to inquire with the others how their interviews went, they seemed to go much more different.

She remembered him kneeling in front of her, and the words that spilled from her mouth at the time. It seemed silly, in retrospect. She knew _exactly_ who she was, she had just been confused at the time was all.

She shook these thoughts from her head, tiptoeing down the halls later in the evening than she should have.

Mallory had been resting after a long day of Halloween preparation, content to lay in her narrow bed in her closet of a room when Coco had barged in, as she often did.

“Wine, I need a glass to relax before bed,” her boss had demanded.

“I can’t, Coco. Not now, anyway. They’re doing inventory soon, they'll notice if any goes missing.”

“I don’t _care._ A hundred-million-dollar ticket, I get a glass of wine when I want it. Don’t forget why you’re here.”

But Mallory couldn’t forget. She took the place of Coco’s long dead family when the bombs fell around the world.

And really, one little glass couldn’t hurt. Venable was just stressed enough with Mr. Langdon’s arrival that she might not even care.

That’s how Mallory found herself slipping into her ugly maid’s uniform long after she should be allowed to sleep.

The halls were familiar enough to her by then, that navigating them in semi darkness took so little effort. She heard the others who liked to stay awake later in the night in the den, their voices echoing to the pantry where the wine was stored.

 _“It’s absurd!”_ she heard Gallant snap at the others so far down the halls, _“the population was obliterated. They_ need _us if they want any chance of re-population.”_

 _“Like_ you _can help with that.”_ His grandmother snapped back.

Mallory tuned them out, long accustomed to the same back and forth, day after day.

She grabbed a glass and then a bottle, pouring a small amount. Just enough to help Coco sleep and (hopefully) not enough for anyone to notice it was missing.

She felt eyes on her, just as she was slipping the bottle back to where it belonged. Her heart skipped a beat and she feared it would be Venable when she finally got the courage to turn and look. It was worse, so much worse.

“Mr. Langdon, I- um, I just-”

But he was staring at her like he had during her interview. An odd mixture of disinterest and total attention. Either way, Mallory felt her body run cold, her hands grow clammy around the glass she still held.

“Midnight errands for Miss. St. Pierre Vanderbilt?”

Mallory looked down at the red liquid and felt herself began to shake, enough to disrupt the precious drink she held when she gave a tentative nod.

“What was that?” he asked, voice so smooth but with the familiar edge at the end of it she grew to fear.

“Yes,” she whispered.

She’d done this for Coco a few times, but she’d never been caught. Mallory wasn’t sure what the consequences would be, but Miss. Venable wasn’t exactly known for her forgiving heart.

Mr. Langdon slid the flimsy pantry door behind him to a close, the voices in the den becoming muffled and making her aware of just how small the pantry was when he began to circle her.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out when he got close enough that their shoulders brushed, “I should have just told her no.”

He hummed, “perhaps. But _she needs me,_ is that how you put it last time?”

She had to use her other hand to support the glass as her shaking grew.

“I’ll put it back.” Mallory whispered, only to be horrified at just how shaky her voice was. The burning behind her eyes and throat becoming prominent.

She kept her eyes down, but she thought he might have shrugged a shoulder, “why bother? You have it, may as well take it.”

But she didn’t feel dismissed yet, “are you going to tell Miss. Venable?”

“Afraid? I suppose I should tell her. This is after all, her Outpost.”

Mallory nodded with some resignation, unsure what sort of punishment awaited her when the Mistress of the Outpost found out about her transgression. A few days without food? A beating? Or maybe she’d just cut off one of her fingers, maybe even a hand. Seemed like something Venable would get off on.

“Don’t cry, dear. I don’t report to Venable.”

She sniffed, realizing that a few tears had escaped.

“Of course, I can’t just look away. Would you rather _I_ punish you Mallory? I’m in a good mood tonight, probably much kinder than Miss. Venable is.”

She doubted it, doubted he even knew what kind meant. Yet a nagging voice in the back of her mind conceded whatever he had in mind probably wouldn’t lead to permanent mutilation. Her pinky twitched at that, and before she could think it over anymore, she was nodding. “Please don’t tell.”

A hand reached out and stole the glass from her hands. He placed it on the nearby shelf before taking a seat on the stack of crates in the corner, “come here then.”

She stared, unsure what he intended. Her body tensed, ready to make a run for it before she realized just how useless that would be. For all her knowledge of the halls of this place, there really was nowhere he wouldn’t find her.

“I don’t- I _can’t.”_

He smiled, maybe even laughed a little at her panicked state before it dropped all at once. “I said _come here.”_

Still shaking, she was tentative when she stood before him within arm’s reach. “Okay?” she asked, voice meek as her throat burned.

“Now, across my lap like a good girl.”

Her eyes widened, realizing what he planned. “No, but I-”

“ _Mallory.”_

She steeled her nerves, and did her best to pretend she were anywhere else as she slowly bent across his lap. Unsure where to adjust herself, he was quick to wrap his arm around her and position her so that she rested on his lap and knee. She took a deep breath which turned into a gasp when she felt him begin to lift the material of her dress up, past her shins and then her thighs until it piled at her waist in a heap of grey material.

She bit her lip, and buried her face somewhere between his thigh and the crates.

“How many?” She asked, unable to look anywhere but at the crates her forehead pressed against. His thumb played with the elastic of her panties and she felt her entire body tense even more than it had been. Her face burned in shame. 

“Thou shall not steal. Have you heard it? It’s one of the ten commandments.”

She knew he raised his hand but didn’t prepare her body for the sudden smack against her covered ass until it landed. Mallory gasped, drawing a deep breath just in time for the second slap. Her arms shot out from where they had gingerly rested on the crates to catch herself before the next impact. Her wrist ached from how tightly she braced herself, before he slapped her again, his palm squeezing one of her cheeks briefly on the fourth slap. She realized she was holding her breath and let out a gasp after the next slap. Ten commandments, ten slaps. She released another breath when he finally stopped, her body shaking and her face wet with tears.

She tried to stand, but his large palm pressed on the small of her back so that she remained on his lap.

“I thought you were doing ten!” She cried, struggling for a moment to lift herself.

“That was for the wine, this is for your own good.” His thumb was back in her panties, working them down to her thighs.

“How many?” She asked again, balling her hands into a fist as she tried not to cry anymore.

“Until you know better.”

Before she could tell him that she _did know better_ , that the lesson was learned, his ringed hand came down with another hard smack to her bare ass.

This time she screeched, feeling it so much more than before.

“You should probably keep it down, wouldn’t want an audience, now would you?”

She remembered the others down the hall and almost didn’t care about any of them hearing her. It hurt, and with his next blow against her she had to make a tremendous effort not to scream. She shifted, pressing her lips against his pants. She wondered what he would do if she bit down on him, but her ability to move at all ended when he suddenly began to spank her with almost no break in between like before. Over and over his open palm landed against her, the rings digging into her sensitive skin with each blow.

Her mouth was open with a scream that just couldn’t quite form, all thought left her mind.

She cried harder, struggling to breath through the onslaught. The sound of each of his assaults echoing as flesh against flesh in the small room. She wouldn’t be surprised if the others were alerted by that alone.

“I’m sorry! Oh God, I’m sorry!”

“God? Why are you apologizing to God?”  He asked, voice still so smooth and light despite the pain that she was in.

She sobbed too hard to answer but that was okay, his question might have been a rhetorical one since he didn’t slow down or give her a chance to speak.

Mallory began to struggle, trying to escape his grip as all rationality slipped away. When her thighs pressed together, she felt just how wet she’d become through all of this madness. She choked on her sob and instead whimpered, feeling the strong desire spreading through her body.

She didn’t want him to know that, all things considered. “I’m sorry Mr. Langdon,” her hand grabbed his knee as she tried to twist herself to look up at him. “I know better now.”

“You know Mallory,” he paused just long enough for her to feel how much her skin burned, “I think you’re getting there.”

He grabbed one cheek and gave it a squeeze, enough to make her moan with pain.

Her face felt puffy and wet and she wasn’t sure just how much more she could take from him. He let her go, giving one more smack against her ass before she knew that it was over.

She stayed laid across him, unsure if she had the strength to move. His hand moved up and down her spine a few times, the gentle motion so different than what he’d been doing that she began to cry again. He let her, until his fingers tangled up in her hair and his other hand grabbed her by the shoulder and forced her up.

She sobbed quietly, whimpering when the thin material of her dress fell down across her bruising skin to cover her.

He said nothing. Mallory could hardly see him through the tears still blurring her vision, running down her face. He moved in closer and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her, her body going stiff with revulsion. She froze when she felt the tip of his tongue just beside her lips, and then he was licking up, against the salty trail of tears up to just beside her nose.

“Better bring Miss. Vanderbilt that drink Mallory, you’ve earned it after all.”

She let out another sob despite trying to collect herself. Standing was harder that she ever imaged, the nerves of her body protesting. She didn’t bother with her panties, there was no way she could wear them tonight and not feel them against her bruising flesh. When she tried to step out of them, she overestimated her strength and nearly collapsed. Her hands shot out and gripped onto Michael’s shoulders, but he didn’t seem to mind.

He watched her curiously, a small smirk on his lips.

Mallory wouldn’t remember that so much later, just the long walk back to Coco’s room as she tried to walk without spilling the glass of wine everywhere.

And later, when she found the soothing bottle of lotion and her panties on her bed, she wouldn't remember that so much either.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be a one-shot, but as others pointed out, it's very likely Gallant heard, and you just know they'd torture Mallory with that.

She hardly moves the next day.

There are no sick days in Outpost 3 though, so she is forced into another grey dress, though she forgoes panties for the day. Mallory was reluctant to use the lotion he gave her, but she does anyway if only to soothe her beaten skin, now bruised and tender to the touch.

She stays close to the walls, her head down when she starts her day, careful to avoid detection.

It doesn’t matter, because when she goes to wake Coco and help her get ready, hours after Mallory had woken up, her boss is already up and with company.

Her boss and Gallant both stop whatever it was they spoke so intensely about, both staring at Mallory like she’s the mouse to their snake.

She knows this look, has seen it before. Her memories of high school have long blurred and been buried, but she remembers this look.

“Are you fucking him?” Coco asks and as an afterthought, “ _shut_ the door.”

But Mallory is frozen and suddenly cold all over. Her hands are clammy when she finally snaps out of it and shuts the door, even if she wants to run away and hide from the two of them for the rest of her life.

Gallant has a little smirk on his face, looking between the two of them and then keeping his eyes on her.

“I was just telling Coco about the other night. Heard some girl making _all_ sorts of noises in the pantry and Langdon leaving a short time later. She tells me she sent you there last night for a midnight snack.”  

Mallory swallows, shame and fear rushing through her veins. The bruised skin of her ass feels so much worse than it did before.

“I didn’t- it wasn’t like _that.”_ She tells them, tears prickling behind her eyes at the implications.

“Look at her, she’s shaking.” Gallant chuckles.

But Coco is all glares, seething and the same way she used to get when she didn’t have her way in the past. Like when her Instagram post just didn’t get the traffic she thought it would. That’s how she looked now, and that was never good.

“What did he offer you, Mallory? A spot in the Sanctuary? Or did you just give it away for free? Venable will still punish you, and he won’t protect you.”

“I didn’t sleep with him.”

“That’s not what I was hearing,” Gallant shook his head, “even my Nana knew there was fucking going on in there.”

“Don’t cry. For God’s sake Mallory, always such a baby.” Coco rolls her eyes, “just tell us what happened.”

“In detail, please.” Gallant throws in.

Mallory has never been so tempted to just turn and walk out, whatever the consequences nothing could be as terrible as this. Except maybe Venable, and for all of Mallory’s efforts to avoid the woman’s wrath, this was something she would inevitably be punished for if word got out.

She ends up looking down at her feet, eyes burning she can’t bring herself to say the words. To tell the truth is simply to humiliating. They would always hold it over her head and she would be forced to remember. It’s bad enough that Michael was out there somewhere, in his office or roaming the halls. She’d been dreading having to see him ever again, but if Gallant and Coco knew…

They would torture her every chance they got.

She’s crying freely when Coco screams. Gallant too, when the skinny black snake slithers out from under his chair. It’s hissing, raising it’s head like it means to strike. Never a fan herself, Mallory turns and runs through the door she doesn’t bother closing, running from the snake and from two of them. A den of snakes, the three of them.

She hides in her room and waits for Venable to come, but there’s no way she’s leaving her room for the rest of the day.

* * *

Nobody comes to her room, though. She cries on her bed through most of the morning, and later stares at the plain walls. She lays on her stomach to avoid her bruised skin and ignores her duties, her first day off in over a year. Did she even get days off as Coco’s assistant? She can’t remember that life either, an entirely different world. She was always a grey it seems, and can’t remember a time when anyone didn’t expect something of her.

She’s a church mouse and hides in plain sight. The others don’t notice her and that’s fine, sometimes it makes things easier. But Michael saw her, saw something even she can’t find when she looks in the mirror. There are memories that blur somewhere between reality and a dream, that feeling that somebody else is there, another Mallory deep inside of her just waiting to be set free.

Shame floods through her, for all that has happened she feels the slickness between her thighs again. He hurt her, he humiliated her, and yet she wanted nothing more than to reach down and touch herself while thinking of him.

She presses her thighs together despite her bruises and sighs. She shouldn’t enjoy it, but the pain makes her feel so much more alive.

* * *

She falls asleep around the time she should be serving dinner. She’s not sure how long she sleeps for, but she knows it is late when the knocking at her door wakes her up.

The temptation not to answer it is strong, as nobody in Outpost 3 ever drops by for a simple chat.

She’s as shocked as she is unsurprised to see Michael on the other side.

“You weren’t at dinner.” He states, presenting a plate wrapped in tinfoil. She accepts it, though she doesn’t open it or think of it as _hers._ Coco would like seconds, of the small cubes they’re given to eat. It really should go to her….

“Eat up little one, you’ve got healing to do.” Michael brushes past her, though there isn’t much space for him in her room.

“What…. What are you doing?” She asks, finally looking up at him. It seems unnatural for somebody of his status to stand in the small space between her bed and the wall.

“Making sure you eat.”

She hesitates, but removes the tinfoil from the plate. It’s not the usual, tasteless cubes. The smell rushes to her nostrils and she can’t remember the last time she saw something that resembled actual food for her and her alone. Her mouth waters, she ignores him when she gingerly sits on her bed and digs in. “Chicken? Where did you get-”

“That’s not important.” He says, not looking at her but at the bottle of lotion just beneath her bed. She feels her face heat up, but pretends she doesn’t notice.

She eats in silence after that, waiting for him to say something or for him to leave, but he does neither, just watches her.

When she’s done, she moves to leave despite it being her room, “I’ll go clean this.”

Just like her interview she’s held back, his hands wrapping just above her elbow.

She drops the plate and is sure it shatters at her feet, but Mallory doesn’t hear or feel anything but his touch and her rapid breathing.

“What are you doing?”

He pulls her closer, his lips are at his ear. Close enough that she can feel them move when he speaks. “Did you think about me today, Mallory? Every time it hurt?” She swallows but doesn’t respond. His free arm wraps around her and pulls her closer, “what about when Mr. Gallant and Miss. St. Pierre Vanderbilt made you stand there and remember?”

“How did you know about that?”

“Nothing goes on in these Outposts that I don’t know about. Except for you, Mallory. You’ve done a good job of hiding yourself, I’ll give you that.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“That you remember.”

She’s confused, his close proximity doesn’t help with that. “Did you touch yourself, thinking of me?”

Mallory freezes, her face growing hot she’s quick to shake her head. “No!”

“No need to be ashamed, dear.” He rests his chin on her shoulder, wrapping both arms around her waist and bringing her in closer to his body. “Besides,” he whispers into her neck, “I smell it on you.”

To Mallory’s horror, she whines rather loudly. Her inner thighs are slick again. “I didn’t… I didn’t touch myself _or_ think of you,” she hisses.

“Why not? You’re clearly in need.”

He’s almost gentle when he forces her onto her bed, but to her surprise he doesn’t stay on top of her. Instead, he takes a seat at her feet and gives her a pointed look. “Well, have at it, Sweetheart.”

The shock, horror, and overwhelming arousal she experiences in that moment leave her completely frozen. “You’re going to watch?”

“Yes.”

So many emotions run through her, feelings that threaten to swallow her up. Most of all there is curiosity. She’s never done anything like this and it seems fitting that it would take the world ending and this strange man to get her to this point. Her hands tremble so badly, yet she manages to pull her skirt up. She doesn’t even feel self-conscious, especially when she sees the look in his eyes when he watches her.

She sighs, lightly rubbing her clit despite how wet and ready she is. She gasps when he grabs her ankle and tucks it behind him and then lets the other rest on his lap. Her legs are spread open for him to see all, and still she feels no hesitation. His stare alone might send her to her peak.

But she rubs and teases herself, not quite penetrating but sliding over her folds over and over until she’s so wet that there’s so little resistance to her fingers. She thinks Michael might have groaned when she finally began to fuck herself on her own fingers, but it’s hard to tell. She moans unbothered by his presence, pulling out and adding the wetness to her already teased clit that she rubs just a little bit more.

There are voices outside of her room moving down the hall, yet she doesn’t hesitate or stop. She thinks it might be Venable and Miss. Mead, but Mallory is too far gone to care. She adds a third finger and goes all the way up to her knuckle, crying out and just how amazing it feels.

“How is it?” Michael asks.

“So good,” she whispers back, voice shaking as she moves in and out. Like ocean waves, she thinks. She wonders what happened to the oceans after the bombs. Mallory remembers how peaceful they once were.  

“Sorry Mallory, you’ll have to stop. Just for a minute.”

She whines but knows it’s true. The voices are getting closer and will hopefully pass her room without knocking. For the first time in a long while, Mallory isn’t afraid. Michael wants to watch her come as badly as she wants to feel it. He won’t let Venable take that away from her. She rests her hands by her side, her cunt throbbing from the absences.  It’s all a part of the game, she reminds herself.

He glares at the door, eyes narrowing when they stop to speak only a door down from Mallory’s. She presses her thighs together, her ankles squeezing around Michael at the movement. He smiles for only a second before his glaring continues.

She can’t take much more waiting. It really wouldn’t take much…

She’s slow and quiet when she brings her fingers back to her clit, but she can’t hold back a moan when she’s got her fingers back inside of her. Michael smiles down at her, watching her body begin to tense despite the two Mistresses of the Outpost still outside. The side of her foot brushes against his cock. How she missed it this entire time she has no idea, but she feels bold when she runs her foot up and down the length of him.

Mallory has to stop her teasing when her entire body seizes and she feels her orgasm crash into her. She does her best to keep it down, but a cry escapes her and then a long whine as she rides out the sharp waves of pleasure. She’s vaguely aware of him moving over her again, but doesn’t really notice until his palm covers her mouth. “Shhhh, shhh Sweetheart. If I have to deal with Venable today, I’m going to have to give you another spanking.”

Another shock, another twisting deep inside of her that’s tempted to scream out until the door opens. She manages to hold it in, grabbing his forearm with her free hand and digging her nails into the fine material of his jacket while her body begins to relax again.

It’s just her luck that they would finally begin to walk away and leave her free when she was spent and done. She lets him go and sinks into her hard mattress, just trying to gain control of her breathing.

“Give me a taste.” He demands, but she hears the slight shake in his voice, the quiet desperation he doesn’t let himself express entirely. She’s trembling when she withdraws her fingers from her opening and offers them to him. He sucks on her fingers, cleaning any trace of herself from them.

It’s enough to have her arch her back, to feel the stimulation of her breasts against his chest. “What about you?” she asks, feeling his cock between her thighs.

He releases her fingers, “take your uniform off.”

She obeys, despite some trepidation. He gets off of her long enough for her to get out of the uniform, though she does pause when he works on the zipper of his slacks. Her mouth waters and her body tenses when she sees his long, thick cock freed.

He begins to jerk himself off. A part of her relaxes when she realizes he’s not going to fuck her. She needs a clearer head before she can commit to something like that with somebody like him.

Instead she enjoys the sight of him squeezing and pumping his own cock and all the noises he tries to hold back because of it.

He reaches around her, arching the small of her back. He comes with a deep groan, spilling out onto her belly and breast. Hot spurts of ropey cum he rubs into her skin as her heartbeat returns to a normal pace.

And all she can think is along the lines of _what have I gotten myself into?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I started it three times before I liked where it was going and then took elements of those other beginnings to go into this. Smut with plot (they kept talking to each other and for a second there I forgot to write the smut). Hope everybody enjoys and hopefully soon I'll be posting my Millory multific that actually has a long plot.

He was in a rare mood tonight and allowed her more control than he usually might. She sat in his lap, her arms wrapped around his shoulders. Occasionally she could feel his ringed fingers brush against her thighs, exposed each time she leaned forward, the rough fabric of her uniform would reveal more and more to him.

She kept his tongue down with her own, her fingers combing through his soft hair as she pressed herself as close as she could. Finally, when Mallory, couldn’t take much more, she pulled away. “I should get back to my room.”

He was dazed, and she liked that she was the cause of that, but he was quick to regain his footing.

“Leave after you’ve caused _this?”_ He made a point to pull her forward so that she felt just how erect he was through his trousers and her dress.

“Early morning tomorrow.” She moved to get off of him, giving him a quick peck against his forehead that he glared at her for.

“Oh, fuck cleaning or whatever menial task they have you on. Just stay here.”

It was when she stood that she felt just how wet her panties had become, a fact she was certain he was aware of. Still, she adjusted her grey dress and began gathering her hair back into its bun.

“And _please,_ not that god-awful hairstyle.”

“Sorry. It’s policy.”

He’s glaring at her, before something more malicious enters his eyes and she knows she better get out or brace herself for something more. “You’re so content to follow policy, Mallory, and that would mean you have to follow my orders.”

She held back the groan she was certain she was about to make. Maybe she wanted to stay despite logic telling her it was time to go before they did something that she couldn’t take back.

She dropped her hands to her sides and rocked lightly on her feet.

“Yes, Mr. Langdon?”

His face lit up with delight that she was willing to play along, at least for now.

“Lay on the bed and spread your legs.”

She hesitated, but moved to the large bed in his room before sitting tentatively and shakily lowering herself back. She did her best to spread her legs, but it was different than the last time when they’d been in her room. To some degree she had the power there, as well as the familiarity of her own bedroom. Here she felt so much more exposed and was just about to change her mind and leave when Michael was suddenly kneeling between her thighs.

He pushed her dress up past her belly, to just below her breasts as he looked her up and down. “Would you have taken care of this,” he traced her lips through her panties, “when you got back to your room?”

Her toes curled but she managed to nod her head, “yes.”

“Would you have thought of me?”

“Maybe, I’m not sure.”

He slapped down against her clothed mound with just enough force to make her yelp.

His nose brushes up against the damp material, “what do you imagine I would be doing to you when you fucked yourself, Mallory?”

She hums from the vibration of his voice so close to where she really wants him, but holds back from arching her back or finding a way to bring him closer. Instead, she pushes herself against the bed, and sits up onto the pillows.

“Do you ever touch yourself and think of _me?_ What do you think about then?” she challenges, though the image of him jerking himself off like he did in her room has her squirming and growing restless.

He smiles, grabbing her by the hips and dragging her back down. He pulls her panties down, before he begins to trace her with one finger. It just occurs to her that this is the first time he’s really touched her like this. She keeps her eyes open long enough to see him stuffing her panties into his coat pocket before he dives in, devouring her with his tongue. 

The shock of it keeps her numb for only a second, until she feels the way his tongue is flat and working her up and down. Teasing, that’s what he’s doing, until he presses one finger into her. It’s not enough and she bucks harshly against the single digit, clenching and trying to get more of him inside of her. The ring adorning his finger is inside of her, she realizes with a start, but she pushes further down on him.

“So anxious,” he chides when he comes up to look at her. In the candlelight she can see the glisten of his lips that came from her wetness. Words fail her, and she falls back into the mattress and tries to encourage him to keep going. Mallory’s body is on fire and tingles where every piece of her skin touches him in some way, from where he’s still inside of her to the other hand that’s snuck up to gently cup her breast. He begins to move his single finger slowly, in and out. His ring creating a friction she’s never imagined along with his tongue and just the faintest tickle of stubble on his face.

She’s losing herself to the sensations, worse off when he adds a second finger, though this one is ringless. He squeezes harder at her breast and she struggles to unbutton the pinafore around his large palm. He takes his hand off of her just long enough for her to get the apron off before he simply grabs the top of her dress and rips down. The buttons fly somewhere on the bed before he’s reaching under her plain bra and holding her breast again, flesh to flesh.

 _“Michael.”_ She moans when his mouth latches on to her clit and he begins to suck. She’s clenching around his fingers that make obscene noises each time they disappear into her heat, her toes beginning to curl.

And then he pulls away.

Every bit of him is gone, from her chest to where she needs him most.

Her eyes flash open, at a complete loss of words she feels how close she was disappearing into a painful ache. He’s getting off the bed, moving to stand above her with a smirk she absolutely despises. Her thighs clench together in an attempt to keep the heat and warmth she was feeling but he shakes his head, “none of that.” He pulls her legs open before removing his hands completely from her.

“I- but I was going to… Michael!” she throws herself back and tries to fight the tears and the throbbing she still feels.

“Oh, poor baby!” he mocks. She knew he was cruel, but this is something else entirely.

He grabs her by the hair, just enough to sting, and crashes their lips together. She hardly fights him when he presses her tongue completely flat with his and has her taste herself in his mouth. She finds she likes the taste, and even flicks her tongue out to clean the edges of his lips when he releases her.

He laughs then, though it doesn’t sound quite right. Cruel, yes, but that’s a given with him. Still, the sound is almost inhuman.

She doesn’t have much time to think it through before he’s dropping her back to the mattress and begins working on the zipper of his trousers. She watches in reverence, but even the ache in her lower belly isn’t enough for her to feel ready for _that_ yet.

“Michael, I’ve never….” She trails off, feeling discomfort and unsure what words to use to tell him.

His swollen cock is freed, precum trailing out the head she can’t help but reach up and swipe onto her thumb. He guides the digit to her mouth and she finally gets a taste of him. Not enough, though.

“Can you take it in the mouth tonight, Mallory? Swallow me up and I’ll let you finish on my fingers.” He’s tender, but she knows that’s a lie when he presses a gentle kiss to her temple and nibbles on her ear, “we won’t do more than you’re ready for.”

Michael Langdon is not a good man, nobody who climbs this far up in the Cooperative could be. Yet his words spread a warmth and comfort through her that she struggles to remember ever feeling.

“Okay.”

He climbs back onto the bed, adjusting himself and helping her settle onto his lap. He grabs his cock and gives it a few light pumps before using the tip against her lips. She looks up at him, for once not struggling to make eye contact when she begins to suck on just the head.

“Now I know you can do more than that.”

She opens wider and he wastes no time pushing in. She gurgles after a certain point, unable to take more. Despite her own inexperience, she’s had to sit through more than a few rants from Coco about Brock. When she’s taken as much of him as she can, she uses her free hands to squeeze his balls and run up and down the length she can’t take in her mouth. A rush of saliva runs down her mouth, around his cock and down her chin. Mallory gets that on her hands and begins pumping him with her wet hands.

She’s just getting a rhythm and even takes a little bit more of him into her mouth when she feels his fingers trail down back between her thighs.

She moans around his shaft, something she knows has a good effect on him when he thrusts his hips. She does her best to relax at the sensation, and keep sucking and licking what she can, her tongue teasing under his cock’s head and then to just under his foreskin.

He pushes his fingers back into her a little rougher this time, but she’s more than able to take them. She opens her legs again, welcoming the relief to the ache still there from his last teasing’s.

He thrusts against her mouth when she neglects him, and she snaps back to double the teasing and sucking she started before. The noises they make have her clenching and pushing her hips up for more of him.

“Imagine Mallory, it will be like this all the time in the Sanctuary for us.”

She looks up at him, her eyes snapping back open, she groans around his dick.

He smiles down at her, a third finger pushed inside of her. “Interviews concluded today, there’s only one person I plan to take with me.”

He pushes more of himself into her, his cock in her mouth and his fingers in her cunt, she starts to cry. Tears staining her checks, she comes undone, tightening around the three fingers pressed to the knuckle inside of her she does her best to keep focus on him while the pleasure obliterates all other thought from her mind.

Her throat manages to relax just in time to swallow every last drop of cum he fucks into her mouth.

* * *

Mallory hums the next day. She’s sore in all the right places and doesn’t mind her usual cleaning routine

Coco is an equally fine mood, but as soon as Gallant shows up, she prepares herself for the worse the two can throw at her.

“So _Mal,_ anything to say for yourself?” her boss asks.

“You ran off so fast the other day.” Gallant throws in.

But it might as well have been a life time ago when they asked her about Michael.

She helps sew the dress Coco wants for tomorrows Halloween party, looking at neither of them as she ties the various ribbons to the elaborate gown.

Gallant looks at her over his trial run on Coco’s hair, eyes skeptical. “Look, I know what I heard.”

“Then why do I need to explain it to you?”

The room goes quiet, two sets of shocked eyes on her that she manages to ignore as she keeps steady work on the last chore she’ll ever do for Coco.

* * *

She’s twisted up in her own bed, her nightgown riding up and panties becoming damp as she dreams of his eyes looking down at her.

She imagines his hands on her, imagines the things she’ll be able to do to him with time.  The ache grows and she wakes in a sweat, her hair sticking to her neck and her clothes tangled up.

Mallory considers just reaching down and taking care of herself but finds the idea unappealing. She eventually gets up and goes to the bathroom she shares with the other greys, using what precious water they’re given to lightly wash the sweat from her face. She stares into the cracked mirror at her flushed skin and tangled hair. She feels resolved when she looks into her own eyes, free of her glasses yet she feels like she can still see clearly.

The halls are dark, but that works fine for her as she moves quietly to the other side of the compound.

His room is tucked away at the end of the hall most of the purples live in, something she’s aware of as she passes the doors. She manages to make it to his and knocks quietly.

She tries to show no reaction when he opens the door, wearing his leather jacket and red scarf. She feels herself clench up, her heart fluttering and warmth spreading from her belly to her core.

“Funny, I was just thinking of you.” Michael says, moving aside so she can come in.

“I was thinking of you too.” She smiles, standing at the tip of her toes he takes the hint and meets her halfway for a kiss. She sighs, feeling his plump lips against hers, “Michael?”

“Mhmmm?”

“What are you?”

“What do you mean?”

She savors the feeling of his kiss before pulling away, “you’re not… you’re something else. More than human. I need to understand. In my interview I remember your face changing.”

His smile tightens before dropping altogether. “Come here.”

He takes her hand and brings her to his desk, pulling her into his lap when he sits down. His hand runs up and down her body before pushing her hair away from her neck, he presses a light kiss where her pulse is most prominent. Despite it being just the two of them, he whispers the truth to her so lowly she almost doubts what she hears.

They stay like this, his face pressed against her neck, her arms wrapped around him. The shock of his words ringing and making her unsure of everything in her life.

She turns and whispers back once she’s able to even _think_ again. Her words are stutters and with plenty of pauses in between it all, but he is patient while he listens to her ask if _he’s_ the one who dropped all the bombs.

His nod is everything, yet somehow, she already knew? That’s the truth, though, isn’t it? Who else could have done it but him? She must’ve known, he reminds her. Yes, she thinks. But it’s one thing to know _deep_ down, and another to confront the truth.

They stay tangled up together while she swallows the truth of it all.

“Mallory,” he still whispers, a secret that only she will ever hear, “Mallory, please stay with me.”

And she knows this is the only time he’ll ask. The only time he’ll ever sound so vulnerable to her. She thinks of the billions who died and the ones still dying. Of the carnage he’s caused, all in the name of his father. She presses her forehead to his, only realizing she’s crying for all those who died when her tears drip down to his cheeks. And maybe she’s crying for him, too. But she doesn’t want to think of that right now.

She doesn’t dare say what she feels, just nods and presses herself a little closer. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

She nods, his arms wrapping around her he picks her up and brings her to his bed.

He strips her of her clothing and then she does the same to him until they stand bare before each other.

“Are you ready?” Michael asks, eyes devouring her already.

“Here,” she reaches up and grabs his shoulders and switches their positions, so that he takes a seat on the bed. She crawls on top of him once he settles, his hands going to her hips and settling her just below his stomach, his cock tickling her back.

He’s gentle when he begins to rub her clit and finger her slowly, “Mallory, just the two of us. Like we were meant to be.”

She leans forward, holding his face between her small palms while she gives everything she has in a single kiss, “when do we leave?”

“As soon as the others are dead.”

She pulls away.

She has no real friends here… yet something in her is meant to…. Her mind is scrambled. _She doesn’t remember._

Coco is a straight up bitch.

But at least they were together.

Memories of another life, or maybe a nightmare. Coco wasn’t always a bitch….

She closes her eyes.

“Hey,” Michael is gentle, “don’t cry.”

Coco on the ground, her instinct to squat beside her, she moves without thinking...

_Fuck_

She doesn’t remember.

The memories slip away, and when she opens her eyes again, it’s just Michael.

“Please don’t kill them.”

His fingers still inside of her and he stares at her for a long while.

“You would let them live?”

“Yes. Please, please… no more blood.”

His fingers curl and she gasps. “You’ll be mine, after all. That’s all that matters.”

“You’ll leave them alone?”

“Yes.”

When he pulls out of her, she knows she’s ready.

Mallory gets ready, sliding back and grabbing his shoulders while he lowers her down. It’s an entirely new sensation, but she sinks down easily. Her cunt is so wet that there’s barely any resistance to the new penetration, just relief to finally feel him like this. He’s hot and warm inside of her, twitching when she’s finally full of him.

Her nails dig into his shoulders, and his into her hips, but they stay wrapped up in each other until one of them finally snaps and begins to move. He’s gentle, pulling her back and forth. She experiments too, moving up and down against his cock while they keep up their slow tempo.

It’s nauseating how deep he is inside of her. His kisses are consuming, his hands firm when he pulls her closer. “Say it, Mallory.” She can’t speak, only gasp with each sensation of his cock buried and moving inside of her. “Say it, baby.”

She cries out, her head falling back when he suddenly snaps her hips harder against his. “You’re so wet,” he licks his lips, she sees that much when she manages to crack an eye open, “so fucking wet. I know you can take more.”

She whimpers when he suddenly lifts her and pulls out, the sound making a lewd ‘pop’ she never imagined hearing before.

He rolls her onto her back and climbs on top of her. He repositions himself at her entrance before slamming back in. Her body is as relieved as it is shocked at the solid motion, all she can do is hold onto him and give in.

He’s moving too fast, the sound of their skin slapping against each other or of their moans filling the room bring her closer and closer to her peak. His cock slams in and out of her, almost out to its tip before he’s sheathed back into her completely. He’s got one of her legs propped on his shoulder while his hand squeezes her thigh almost too tightly. She might ask him to loosen his grip, but knows her nails are nearly drawing blood from where she drags them against his shoulder blades.

She can’t even get his name past her lips, nothing but gasps and cries are left in her now that he’s finally back inside of her. Despite her obvious breathlessness, one of his hands leaves her thigh and travels up her body. Briefly over her belly, a light squeeze of her breast, and then wrapping around her throat. “Say it, Mallory,” he hisses his pace never relenting.

She’s too far gone though, her eyes barely staying open as she feels the first waves of her orgasm rolling through her.

“Say it,” he repeats, his thrusts slowing down. Still nearly pulling out of her completely before he pushes back as far as he can go, just much slower but hard enough to keep her breathless.

But she does her best and regain some control over herself, licking her lips and taking a few deep breaths. 

“ _Michael,”_ she groans. Or maybe cries, letting her fingers release their death grip on his shoulders so that she can weave them into his hair. “ _My_ Michael,” she whispers against his lips before they’re kissing. All teeth and tongue, she pours everything she has for him into it. She thinks maybe he does too. He presses a quick kiss to her forehead before he returns to his original position and picks up the speed again. His fingers are rough when he pinches at her clit, but it’s just what she needs.

But before she really let’s herself lose it completely, she can’t help but look down to where he fills her. The way her body has stretched to accommodate him so perfectly and in the most pleasurable way. She wonders what the consequences of their union will be, before her orgasm tears through her and all thought vanishes.

It’s just him. Always him. All that matters.

* * *

Mallory knows he leaves sometime after she falls asleep. She can feel the bed dip and hears the rustle of him getting dressed, but she’s to tired and sore to do anything about it. She has no idea how much time passes before he returns and gently shakes her awake.

“Come on Mallie, time to wake up.”

She knows the moment she sees him that they’re leaving. He drops two gas masks at the end of the bed and offers her his hand.

When she stands, she feels some of his cum trail out of her and down her thigh.

“Don’t worry, I’ll put more of that in you when we get to the Sanctuary.”

He hands her some clothes that are heavier and she assumes are meant to protect from radiation, a distraction she’s grateful for with her face burning and her body intrigued.

“What’s going on out there?” She asks, hearing the others moving around and the Outpost and its odd schedule becoming lively.

“Halloween party, but you and I are leaving. Anything you need to do?”

She thinks of her bare room and the life that she led in this place before shaking her head. “No.”

“Then let’s go,” he grabs the masks and then offers her his arm.

* * *

It’s the first time she’s been outside in over a year, though it’s nothing like she remembers. Nuclear winter is cold even in her suit and the mask makes it harder to see. Not that she really expects to see anything of significance at first.

There is a pile of very red apples dumped onto the ground that pique her curiosity, but she quickly forgets about that when she sees Miss. Meade standing outside without a suit.

Before she can say anything, Michael gently pulls her around the compound walls to a carriage and horses waiting.

“Miss. Meade, are we ready to go?” Michael asks the older woman. She smiles, a warmth that Mallory never saw from her in the year they spent together.

“Ready when you are.”

Michael opens the carriage door and helps her in before following in himself. “What about Meade?” Mallory asks, when he closes the door behind him.

“She’s going to get us to the Sanctuary in one piece. I’ll explain later.”

The interior of the carriage hisses and fresh air begins to pump in, Michael taking off his masks ques Mallory to do the same.

She watches out the window as they begin to move, the wheels bumping along the uneven ground.

She’s so caught up in the destroyed world she sees around her that she almost misses the three figures moving swiftly through the carnage.

“They don’t have suits either.” She points to the odd scene, her eyes transfixed on them. Michael pulls away from his phone to see what she’s talking about.

She thinks he might tense, but it’s hard to tell when she’s so focused on the three people moving so gracefully.

She remembers a swamp and a bathtub that turned black. She remembers blood and power and the feeling of herself being torn apart and rebuilt.

But then there is Michael’s voice, “cockroaches, dear.”

The last hour has been a huge change for Mallory, that it feels familiar enough when Michael pulls her back close to him and begins kissing her neck.

“We’ve got a long trip to kill.”

She gives in.  

**Author's Note:**

> This was all inspired by the Millory's on tumblr, amazing shippers with a lot of ideas.


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